The Ring. A Short Story.

I hadn’t seen her in almost a year but we had remained close over the years. We’d spent our college years miles apart. Still, we both knew one of us could always pick up the phone and find the other through the bundles of wires that connected our voices. Each time we talked it was if no time had passed. We’d tell our stories about the happenings in our lives. There was never any bitterness for an extended period of not being in touch. And each conversation picked up where the last had ended. We knew we’d always have each other no matter where our lives took us. There were battle wounds from the trials and errors of past relationships. Broken hearts to be mended. Tears to be wiped. But through it all we had each other. That was a given. A given that I guess I took for granted.

We were finally in the same city for a few days. We looked forward to meeting up. We set the time and the place. Fontina’s, the fabulous Italian bistro. 7:30pm. On the dot. For me, a 7:30 meeting time meant 7:40ish. I tended to be fashionably late though it was not always on purpose. But this time I was eager to see her. I arrived at the restaurant at 7:15pm. And immediately called to make sure she was on her way.

“Hi. Yes, we are on our way. We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says.

I casually dismiss the we pronoun. I’m too excited right now. I don’t see her pull up to the restaurant but as she approaches the door, I grab her and give her a tight squeeze. Here she is. The woman who has been my best friend since 6th grade. We pull away and look at each other. Exchange the quick “how are you’s” before embracing again. She pulls away and puts her hand in mine and pulls our hands closer to my face. And there it is. The ring. I look at the ring and back at her face. She beams with the brightest smile and her eyes just twinkle. This woman is in love, I think to myself. I look back at the ring and tell her congratulations. She reaches her arm around me and we hug again. And it is only this time that I see him. He is standing about 5 feet away allowing us to have our moment. He can’t read my face though. I have no emotion on it. Really, I don’t know what emotion to feel. I release from our embrace and she turns to him.

“Claire, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, this is Claire, my best friend.”

I extend my arm to shake his hand. There is no part of me that even considers hugging him. It's partly because I don't hug anyone who I just meet and partly something that I couldn't really pinpoint.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say. And I mean it.

Lily had been talking about Jonathan for months now. I think she said they met right after the last time I saw her. I looked forward to meeting this man who had stolen her heart. The kind of man that we used to think we’d only dream about. And now, she’d found him and they were to be married. They were going to build a life together. And there I was hardly happy with my career path and no where near finding a relationship to which I’d care to devote my life. I was at my usual point, coming out of a relationship that I aspired would turn out better than it did. I’d break it off and continue on my search. This time though, I was tired. More tired than all the other times. So worn out from trying. Worn out from the stress. Worn out from putting my heart out there just to retrieve it after it had been trampled on. But my best friend was happy and really, I was happy for her. She was my best friend. I wanted her to be happy. I smiled at her and swung open the door to the restaurant trying to swing away the strange mixture of emotions.

We sat down at a nice quiet table. I immediately ordered a glass of wine knowing that I needed something to calm my nerves. Lily and I chatted and caught up on how work was and whether we were still satisfied with it. She knew that I was looking. I told her I was considering moving closer to where she was. I’d secretly imagined we could live together. But all my plans had forgotten about the fiancé. I didn’t even mention those thoughts to her. It all seemed a little pointless now.

After my second glass of wine and halfway through my fettuccine alfredo, I realized that I had not spoken to Jonathan at all. Lily and I had our conversation. She would talk to him and I overheard their interactions. But I had no idea where he worked. If he even worked. If he had insurance. If he was at all a good match for my best friend. Even then, I didn’t exert myself. I didn’t engage him in conversation. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get to know him. After all, things were different when he was around. Lily didn’t laugh as loud at my jokes. She didn’t take my not-so-politically correct comments about co-workers in the same non-judgmental manner as she had without him. Maybe I was overanalyzing but something felt different. I felt like I was losing what I once had. A close friend and confidante. A person who loved me no matter what. Someone who was always there as a shoulder to cry on even from miles away. Yet, here we were. Feet from each other and I felt as though we were worlds apart. And her world was moving on without me. She didn’t need me any more. She had someone who would love and care for her no matter what.

As I watched her wipe a spot of sauce off his chin, a deep sadness came over me. One that I couldn’t shake. I picked up my bag and acted like I was looking for my wallet. I couldn’t watch anymore. I closed my eyes and hoped with every part of me that no matter what, this man would never come between me and my best friend. I need her in my life more than she’ll ever know.

Q: Do we have to move on to "move on?"

I feel very Carrie Bradshaw right now but she had some good points concerning relationships and hopefully I can follow suit.

I've been thinking lately and talking to various friends about relationships, the end of relationships and figuring out how to move on. Some are convinced that the way to move on is to find someone new. To find someone who willingly takes the place of your last love. Someone who will hold you when you cry even if you never admit the fact that you are crying for your loss. Not for any other reason. Or that maybe we just need a quick fix. A one-night stand that somehow numbs the pain for the night. And then with their departure the following morning, they take the pain and confusion with them cleansing your relationship palette.

But really, is it better for us to give ourselves time? Is it better to let ourselves be sad and distraught over the loss of a love? And at what point is it still good for us to process and deal with our sadness without slipping into wallowing in our pain?

Really, I think that we should allow ourselves time to be with oneself. There's always so many things that change. Things that you learn about yourself. Behaviors you changed because of the relationship. I think we really need time to reflect. Time to see where the relationship fell short. Where each party stopped trying to make it work or maybe how to recognize when things are crumbling so that we can get out before we are in too deep. Get out before it hurts so much. I think that really we don't like allowing ourselves time to think about what we did wrong or what caused the pain.

Then there's some of us who long for someone to love and care for us. Yes, most people want to be loved and cared for but some people long for it. They seek it out and often times run into walls oblivious to the fact that they may be doing themselves more harm than good.

So really, do we have to move on to "move on?"

Soon.

The weekend is approaching and I am so glad for it. It'll be nice to have some down time after this week. I train individuals all day long. By the end of the day, I have almost no desire to speak to anyone. I enjoy the silence or the rambling drone of the tv. It's peaceful. No questions to ask. No questions to answer. So I look forward to my break. My weekend will be uneventful. Maybe hanging out with some friends. Maybe lounging in my pajamas at my apartment. But I look forward to every minute.

And Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I work half of next week and then get to fly home to see my family. My siblings that are growing up. My parents and all the changes they are making to the house. The remaking of the kitchen. The new puppy that makes me want a little yorkipoo SOOOOOO badly. The stories. The laughs. The silent interactions. The awkward and strained interactions with the extended family members. The hugs. The comfort of being with those who love you. I can't wait to see my family.

Somedays are exhausting. A day like today. Those days that you just feel tired even though you think you slept well or atleast semi-well and you think that it was enough. Those days that you feel like there's a lot on your plate. Not necessarily too much that you can't handle it all but still you know what's coming. Or maybe the thing is that you aren't exactly sure what's coming and so it's hard to prepare for.

It's those days that you wish you could curl up in bed with a good book and let your imagination run free with the words on the pages. Hopefully it'll be a book that'll grab you and take you away from reality if only for a couple of hours.

Those days that it's not necessarily just the tangible things that are weighing on you but those emotions, thoughts, fears. Fear of the unknown. Thoughts questioning if you are making the right decisions in your life. After all, what is right and wrong? Not the moral aspect. But what is right and wrong for you. For your current situation. For the workplace. For your sanity. For your happiness. And those emotions that flood the forefront as you try to shove them back into their place. Back into the depths of yourself just so no one else suspects that you have them. That you have concerns. Worries. The desperate desire to have some kind of confirmation telling you that you are headed in the right direction. The right direction in your career. The right direction in love. But then you think, is there even a "right" direction?

the story of Omega

So my fish died. For those of you who knew her, I ask that you take a moment of silence for Omega.

Omega lived a full Life. Her life ended on July 18th, 2005. I have decided that it is time to share her story with the world.

She had a proper funeral and she will live on forever in my thoughts. She had been living with me for the past three years. She was a strong, stubborn little fish. She had a passion for life and a passion for pissing me off. The following sounds crazy but it's true. There are witnesses to this fact. Omega used to play dead. I know. She's a fish. Not a dog. And I didn't teach her anything. She just did it. She'd float on her side and I would have to coax her out of her depressive moments. Once, I walked in to my room and saw her floating on her side and I just broke down. We'd been through so much together. Then I lifted my head off my desk and the broad was swimming around like she was laughing in my face. I chatised her and told her that I was not talking to her anymore. That didn't last though.

She also survived a car wreck in the middle of winter in PA. I was trekking through the godforsaken state on long drive back from NYC headed to Ohio. Two cars ahead of me slammed on their brakes on the interstate for some unknown reason. I was already changing lanes, settling in to the center lane. The car in front of me was attempting to avoid the now stopped car in front of him by slamming on his brakes and swerving into the center lane. The left rear of his car and the front right side of my car met in a less than desireable situation. The car behind me missed the memo that the first car had slammed on their brakes and nailed the rear of the first car. Another car swerved off the road avoiding the entire situation. So now, there were 5 cars involved in this accident. Previous to the incident, Omega had been swimming in her traveling bowl (tupperware). When the car hit us her water in the bowl went flying. All over my crotch and my legs. Somehow, Omega stayed in the bowl with a minimal amount of water left. Did I mention she was a determined little fish? But when I get out of the car, still in shock, I walk up to the others involved and the police looking like I peed in my pants. And I ended up getting a ticket for hitting the back of the car in front of me even though, he swerved and hit me. Ugh. But Omega made it through it all.

And once, Omega was sick. She was so sick that I had to take her to the hospital aka the pet store. She and I had just gotten off a plane and I wasn't sure if it was air sickness or something else. I'd noticed that she hadn't been her swimmy little self before the flight so I decided it was time for some professional help. The fish guy at the store started off on the wrong foot with me though. He told me that it would be cheaper for me to buy another fish than for me to buy the medication for the scale ailment that she had. I made it very clear to him that Omega was irreplaceable. He looked at me like I was a few fries short of a Happy Meal. I jumped over the counter and kicked him senseless. Wait... that's not what happened. I knew that's what Omega wanted me to do to him since he suggested that I just let her die. She knew she had many more adventures with me. So we bought the medication. She got better. Once again, proving that she was a survivor.

Look for more Omega stories in part 2....

Fall.

Finally the seasons are changing, summer's shedding its skin revealing a new and beautiful season. Fall.

I love this time of the year. The leaves are turning colors and slowly finding their way to the ground. Soon, every two-year-old will be up to their waists in orange and yellow leaves. This time of the year is cooler. It gets darker earlier. People cook chili and fabulous soups. It makes me want to curl up in bed with a good book or some time to write as I sip on some chai tea. I love chai. Especially this time of year.

But at the same time, this time of year is saddening. It reminds me of my family. I miss getting to see my siblings grow up. Getting to help them out and cover up for them, protecting from the wrath of the parents who might just find out and might just be in a "disciplinary" mood. Siblings have got to stick together.

This is the time of year that family is the focus. Thanksgiving is coming up and the ideal dinner is a table surrounded by friends and family and enough food to feed a small country. We celebrate gluttony. Yet, we argue that food is the attraction to the underlying celebration. A celebration of loved ones and fellowship. And as much as I despise our gluttonous festivity, I look forward to to sipping on hot tea and laughing with my family as we relive the experiences of the past year. I cherish those moments.